Contact
by roseXstars31
Summary: It had been seven hundred forty-three days, and she hadn't heard anything from him. They both knew Europe was far away from Japan and that they had busy lives. It didn't stop her from calling again after seven hundred forty-three days. It didn't stop him from picking up.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Shugo Chara!**

* * *

Two_ new voicemails, _Amu's phone beeped_._

In the first voicemail, she immediately recognized the perky yet frazzled voice of her best friend: _"Hey, Rima? If you're listening to this right now, then you must know that I left my phone at your house. Oops! Sorry about that." _There was a characteristically nervous giggle. _"Anyways, when you see me at school tomorrow, can you give me my phone back? Thanks! See you soon."_

She rolled her eyes, sighing. It was so..._Amu _to forget her stuff at other people's houses. She made a mental note to bring Amu's phone to school tomorrow and was about to remove the phone from her ear when the second voicemail started.

_"Hi, Amu-chan. I haven't heard from you in a while. How's Japan these days? I really miss you a lot. Europe's lonely without you." _There was a light chuckle. _"By the way, did you get my email? I just read the one you sent me yesterday. I'm so jealous of the fun times that you and the others are having together." _There was a pause, and what came next sounded so earnest that Rima almost dropped the phone. _"You'll visit someday, right? I might be dancing in Europe for a couple more years. Call me back when you have time, okay?"_

The caller hadn't mentioned his name, but Rima didn't have any trouble identifying the speaker and it was clear that Amu knew his voice just as well.

Amu's phone fell onto the soft blankets on Rima's bed. She had assumed that since she wasn't receiving any texts, calls, or emails, he had broken off contact with everyone. She had assumed that it wasn't just her.

From the voicemail, it was obvious that she couldn't have been farther from the truth.

* * *

It had been seven hundred forty-three days since she had seen him.

Seven hundred forty-three days, and she hadn't heard from him at all, all this time. Not an email or phone call or anything. She had assumed he was busy: who wasn't these days? Europe must be tough, dancing must be stressful, and there was his schoolwork on top of that. It had to be a heavy workload.

But those things only heightened her confusion as she scrolled through Amu's phone. There were so many texts from him, and it looked like Amu had texted him back. There were missed calls from him. A breath caught in her throat. He had sent her pictures. So many pictures.

Blood pounded in her ears. So he had been keeping in touch with Amu. She had texted him, he had texted back.

It wasn't like Rima was the one who had broken off all contact with him. At the beginning, she had typed out emails that he never responded to. She had texted him; he didn't text back. She had told herself that he was a busy person with no time to write back.

She had even tried calling him once, and he hadn't picked up. Before Rima knew it, she had dropped Amu's phone like it was a burning coal and picked up her own cell phone. She scrolled through her contacts. _Fujisaki Nagihiko. _Before she could stop herself, she pressed _call._

The familiar ringing noise filled her ears. _Ring. Ring. Ring. _Finally, the rings faded and a cheerful voice took its place. _Hey, it's Nagihiko. Sorry, I can't answer the phone right now. Leave a message or call me back later._

"Leave a message after the beep," a robotic voice intoned.

"No." Rima pressed _end call_ and tore the phone away from her ear.

* * *

Three hours later, she was still thinking about it. She couldn't stop herself from grabbing Amu's phone. She couldn't stop herself from finding _Nagi _in Amu's contacts. And she certainly couldn't stop herself from pressing call and holding the phone to her ear.

She didn't have to wait for long. She heard his cheerful voice through the phone after only three rings. _"Hi, Amu-chan! Did you get my voicemail?"_

He sounded so happy, and his voice was like bells. Rima gripped the phone tightly, feeling like a fake. "This is Rima, actually. Amu left her phone at my house." She winced after hearing the words come out of her own mouth. _What a stupid excuse._

_"Oh. Hi, Rima-chan. How have you been?" _The words were painfully plain. They sounded carefully picked out and stiff, although still cheerful and polite.

"I've been good." She paused. "Why haven't you been emailing me back and stuff?" she suddenly blurted out. "I mean, it's been more than two years, and I haven't heard anything from you."

_"I'm sorry, Rima-chan." _And he did sound regretful, but Rima still felt like someone had twisted her up into knots. _"But I've been quite busy with my dancing and schoolwork. English is difficult to master. I'll text you when I have time, I promise."_

Rima squeezed her eyes shut. "You've been texting Amu. A lot. And I bet that you've been emailing her too," she accused. "Haven't you? I bet you're busy, but you're not busy enough to ignore her texts."

There was a silence on the other end. _"Amu's...delicate. Ever since I, as Nadeshiko, left her back in fifth grade, she's been sensitive to her friends leaving. I don't want her to feel that lost and hurt ever again. That's why I've been keeping in such good contact with her. I'm sorry for not doing the same with you, but I didn't realize that you cared so much," _he said wryly.

She narrowed her eyes, even though he couldn't see her. "Just send me an email, once in a while, okay?"

_"Of course."_ She heard a delicate cough on his end. _"I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'll text you when I find the time."_

"Bye, Fujisaki," Rima spoke into the phone.

But all there was was a familiar buzzing. He was already gone.

* * *

"Who was that?" Nagihiko's mother asked her son. "Was it Amu-chan?"

"No, it was Rima-chan."

"Rima-chan..." his mother mused. "That name's unfamiliar. You don't talk about her much, do you?"

He gave a noncommittal shrug. "Guess not."

His mother peered into her son's deep brown eyes and frowned, but "dance practice resumes in ten minutes" was all she said before turning around and walking away.

* * *

She sat at her desk. A week had passed since her call with Nagihiko. True to his word, he had sent her an email.

_Hi Rima-chan,_

_ How's Japan? Europe's good. The weather's unpredictable at times, but other than that it's very nice. I'm meeting a lot of new people and dancers. I think that my dancing has really improved. My definition of dance is definitely much broader than it was before I came here._

_ I hope you're doing well. Are you getting a lot of homework? The homework load is pretty tough here, but it's manageable._

_ Tell everyone that I miss them. Life isn't the same without the Guardians._

_ -Nagihiko_

She frowned, her eyebrows scrunching over her forehead. The email was certainly very polite, but it didn't seem very Nagihiko-ish. It didn't hold the same cheer as the Nagihiko she knew from the old Guardian days, back in elementary school. Yes, two years had passed, but he couldn't have changed that much, could he?

She tapped out an email back to him.

* * *

His eyes darted across the computer screen as he read Rima's email back to him. It was short and blunt.

_You're not the same anymore._

He sucked in a breath. So she had realized the change in his attitude. Placing a hand on his forehead, he leaned back in his chair. If she hadn't been so shaken when she called him, she probably would have detected the personality change immediately. He had only been lucky. But Rima was clever, and she was a good actress.

She was good at hiding things too.

* * *

Her eyelids drooped and she hugged her knees to her chest. Outside her window, crickets sang softly. Her digital clock flashed "2:00 A.M." She yawned softly but it had been apparent to her for the last half an hour that she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep so quickly. Her eyes focused on the cell phone she gripped tightly in her hand. Her own, not Amu's which she had already given back.

It would be roughly 8 P.M. in Europe. He promised to make a greater effort in contacting her. He had probably read the short email that she sent him.

She needed to know the truth. That was the only thing that kept her eyes from closing as she scrolled down her contacts.

* * *

The smattering applause still echoed in his ears as he glided down the hallway. Cameras flashed and blinded his eyes. Microphones were shoved in his face, and there were distinct yells of, "An interview, Fujisaki-san! Would you answer some questions?" His mother placed a firm hand on his shoulder and turned to face the reporters with her camera-ready smile. "Of course he'd answer some questions," she graciously answered for her son.

He nodded politely, dipping his head down in the most lady-like fashion he could muster at the moment. His muscles ached and his head spun from all the lights. Sweat trickled down his back. There was nothing he wanted to do more than sink into a warm bath and go to sleep. But he couldn't reveal all these things in front of the cameras, the reporters, the people. Instead, he smoothed out the front of his dark purple kimono and gave a gentle smile.

One man pushed his way in front of the rest. "Fujisaki-san!" he gasped. "What is it that allows you to dance that way? So gracefully, so intoxicatingly?"

"It is hard work and perseverance," he smoothly answered. "Before a child is able to walk, he or she will fall many times. Dancing is the same way. The graceful movements that you saw tonight went hand in hand with sturdy determination."

His mother's hand pressed into his shoulder, her silent sign of approval. They had rehearsed such answers and practiced such interviews, so there would be never be a crack in the perfect mask that was Fujisaki Nadeshiko. But the man continued on.

"But although you dance under the name 'Fujisaki Nadeshiko,' you are really a boy. How do you dance that way, even as a boy?"

"It is hard work and perseverance," he repeated. "It does not matter whether you are a boy or a girl. It does not matter whether you dance as a boy or girl. What matters is how you approach your style of dance."

But the man still had questions. Nagihiko felt dizzy, and bright flashes seemed to be the only thing he could see. "Fujisaki-san, I hear that in order to dance like a girl, you live your life as a girl. However, you are most definitely a boy. How do you balance these two lifestyles?"

His mother had rehearsed this question with him. Nagihiko opened his mouth to utter another perfect, textbook answer, but something stopped him. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he stumbled, losing his balance. Bright lights shone in his face. Shouts were the only thing he heard. "Are you all right?" he heard his mother ask.

He was so tired. So tired of everything. His legs gave out and he collapsed into his mother's thin arms.

* * *

_So pitiful, _he heard among the soft murmurs that surrounded him. Sleepily opening one eye, he found himself draped across an old couch. "You were only out for about two minutes," he mother whispered to him. "Stand up. We'll talk about this at home." She slipped an arm around him and pushed their way out of the crowd of reporters. "My son has had a long day. He needs some rest," she said over and over until it was just them, walking in the dim light of the streetlamps. She said nothing to him. He said nothing either.

There was nothing to say.

* * *

When they got home, he went straight to his room and collapsed on the bed. His muscles burned like fire after performing the two and a half hour show. His head still spun and images flashed beneath his eyelids, accompanied by whispery voices.

_So pitiful. He was so graceful onstage - I suppose it's all a mask._

_ Such a shame that he was born a boy. He could have achieved so much if he had been born a girl._

_ I wonder if that child had a real childhood. After all, his life was basically written out for him the day he was born. Japanese dancing was never really a choice for him._

He felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest. Today was the first time he had cracked. He had never allowed "Fujisaki Nagihiko" to make an appearance when he was dancing or giving interviews before.

His phone beeped in his pocket. Wearily, he dug it out. _Mashiro Rima_, the tiny words flashed.

He shook his head. He didn't have the strength today to fake anything. The phone beeped over and over again until it finally fell silent, and Nagihiko tossed it onto his pillow.

Suddenly, the beeping started again, and Nagihiko glanced at the phone. _Hinamori Amu, _the phone flashed.

Instinctively, Nagihiko's hand closed around the phone. He had never purposefully missed a call from Amu before, no matter how tired or worn out he was. He was too afraid of hurting her. He would never hurt her like he had again. This he had promised himself when he left for Europe.

And there was a tiny part of him that felt better when he heard Amu's voice. His muscles wouldn't ache so badly, and sometimes he would even smile. Amu seemed like a good cure for anything.

He stared at the phone as it beeped continuously. _Hinamori Amu, Hinamori Amu._

Closing his eyes, he allowed the beeping to continue until it stopped. Not even Amu would be able to make him feel better today.

* * *

Rima stared at the phone. He hadn't picked up. She knew she probably shouldn't have been so alarmed, since he had been basically ignoring her for the last two years, but she couldn't help it. Something tugged at her. _There's something wrong. Something is very, very wrong._

* * *

**So I've started a new story! I WILL update The Rimahiko Entries (no, I haven't forgotten about that) but this idea suddenly occurred to me and I couldn't stop writing. I had originally intended for this to be a oneshot, but everything is too intricate to be contained in a single chapter. So it will probably be just a couple chapters: five at the very most.**

**What do you guys think? Read and review!(:**


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